The Mighty Grimoire
by What Shouldn't Work
Summary: Remember the cartoon and Harry Grimoire? What if the character could be salvaged? Also, the guy he ripped off is going to be crossing paths. The over-the-top Guardian will be running headlong into Donovan as well. Not all nostalgia may be easily rose-tinted, but not all characters are beyond saving.


The Mighty Grimoire

1 - Spike'd

Turning a weakness into a strength is what set humanity to be efficient predators. The will to keep moving, to survive, has conditioned this species to have more stamina than any other entity. A predator may be able to run faster, but a jogging Human will inevitably outpace and outlast them. The fleeing vampire has learned this lesson the hard way. It began simple enough, having crept behind the towering neanderthal of a man, only to hesitate when dark eyes peered into his over a broad shoulder. Hesitation kills the prey... and maims the predator.

It is another cruel lesson for him, clutching a split side that rapidly depletes his ability to run. His target is Human, he still smells that pungent, oily sweat of a mortal! How was that man able to lash out so quickly with such a sharp blade? Why have his thundering footfalls continued after a five mile flight through the town? **_Damn these Humans and their ingenuity_** , the vampire might have mockingly cursed while safe and sound in the Court of Maximoff. _**Give prey a brain and of course they'll think it possible to turn their status as prey into a weapon.**_ If only he were back home... or prowling the weaker citizens far, FAR away from the monster giving chase.

The aura of bats fades, the fleeing hunter crashing headlong into a garbage pile. This grey alleyway is a disgusting counterpart to the dark and comforting halls of his master's abode. He snarls, a wordless curse to being wounded and tired, and silences himself quickly when stomping boots echo up the neighboring street. If there is irony in treating a filthy, Human dumpster as a coffin then it is not considered as he crawls into one. The plastic lid bounces back into place as the assailant storms into the alley.

Metal wrenches and slams into the stone wall. The vampire jerks back from the commotion, eyes wide from shock, and teeth clenched from whatever squished beneath his hand. The Human had cleaved a nearby dumpster and kicked one half a good ten feet. There is no way that this being should be Human, but through the miasma of rotting foodscraps the vampire can still smell it. Over heavy footfalls, his pointed ears can still detect it, the tug-and-clench spasms of a mortal heart. Only a Dhampir could wreck havoc with his sense and reasoning, but there is no angry disgust in his core, no aura felt to note the assailant as such.

Just as he reasons that the Human must have some otherworldly gift, further battering his vampiric ego, the dumpster jerks up several feet. Handprints on either side show the assailant's strength, the metal wrenching and caving in. Before he is to be crushed in a tight-fitting sarcophagus, the vampire pushes upward, blowing the lid clean off during a last-ditch escape. An aura of bats return, his body splitting into many winged rodents to carry him away. The crumbled-up dumpster is unceremoniously dropped, the hunter drawing a claymore that seems like a shortsword in his massive hand. The vampire just avoids a swing that would have split him from skull to groin, urging his spirit to flee up and away.

The flight is short-lived and his body become whole once more, crashing and rolling on a roof. Over a shoulder he sees a hand rising over the ledge, a powerful grip hauling the assailant effortlessly upward. No matter how the vampire kicks and crawls, no matter how he snarls to silence the fear gripping his undead heart, there is not enough strength left to avoid his ankle being gripped and yanked. The last he sees of this world is the precious moon above before it spins wildly to his decapitation. Only when his spirit comes screaming back into Makai do the other vampires take note.

Resting upon a crimson throne, Dimitri's eyes crack open just in time to see the warped face of his servant's ghost stretch inches before his nose and fade into nothingness.

* * *

A little something to entertain the Capcom fans, reworked from being a crack-fic for another crossover. From the era that brought us Street Sharks, Reboot and a bunch of ultra-violent kids cartoons that got away with SO much before Standards caught up with them. The idea is simple enough, to practice my writing and to do a cross over with one cartoon where several dozen innocents die, the villain ends up winning, and nearly all major heroes bite it.

If anyone catches on to what that might be, don't ruin the surprise just yet.


End file.
